Monday, August 31, 2015

It hit me like that: diced sweet potato, sprigs of moringa and himbabao, tomatoes cooked to a pulp, and the bits of smoked fish blending like the yin in the yang of bagoong broth chocking all my senses.I was overwhelmed, speechless, paralysed by the memory of that great Ilocano vegetable stew as prepared by my grandmother --- she who cooked like an angel --- shocked and in great awe as one of the greatest spectacle I have ever seen unfolded from the mist of the fading dawn.But Borobudur is much, much more than the buridibud of my childhood --- it is a 9th century homage to one of the greatest feet ever to tread earth, a representation of the journey from the world of desire to that of forms and formlessness.Borobudor is the world's largest Buddhist temple [although my Cambodian colleague might not agree], guarded by 504 stone images of the Great Teacher, 72 of which are enclosed in stupas that represent the only possession he had when he died: his clothes [the base], his drinking cup [the mound], and his walking stick [the spire]. Borobudor is magic, a piece of serenity on earth, best enjoyed during sunrise, and definitely a major moment of my continuing journey.

Sunday, August 30, 2015

Now it can be told.Superman, cleverly disguised as a Kryptonite, is actually an Indonesian from Yogyakarta.He was born and raised in a place called Kraton Ratu Boko [note the "K"!] not in Louisville as those Superman movies would like us to believe.His grandfather is actually King Boko, who was killed by Prince Bandung Bondowoso, who eventually proposed marriage to Princess Loro Jonggrang who is King Boko's daughter and Superman's mother, who of course rejected the prince, who then turned the princess into a stone.That is why Superman is a man of steel, because he was born from a mother of stone.How was I able to say that? Here's my proof:

And every afternoon, the descendants of Superman converge on the gate of Ratu Boko, in the guise of watching the spectacular sunset, but with the true intention of absorbing the power of kryptonite [i.e. golden rays of the sun] that bounce from the ancient walls.

Here's my proof of that:

What they do not know is the real power emanate from green kryptonite bottles, known to only a few, including me. The rays of the sun are superficial compared to the energy of the green bottles whose mere presence, like the Dementors of Azkaban, can turn glasses [i.e. beer mugs] into ice.

It gave me intelligence to be able to understand why Superman and his descendants should fight for and protect Article 69, for the good of the people, whom they are sworn to protect, and unlock the mystery why King Solomon fell in love with the Ethiopian Queen of Sheba.

It gave me power over matter so that I was able to reduce the size of a road bike, fit it in my luggage, and bring it home.

I have that power, because I too is a direct descendant of Superman, and here's my proof:

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Once upon a time, Prince Bandung Bondowoso proposed to Princess Rara Jonggrang who said yes, IF the prince can build a thousand temples overnight, who did with the help of his supernatural friends, but upon completing the 999th was tricked by the princess who ordered her maids to start pounding rice and building a fire which tricked the cocks who crowed earlier than usual.Some 2,876 kilometers in Pantabangan, Minggan the Giant also proposed to the mountain goddess Maria Sinukuan who said yes, IF within the night the giant can stop the river from flowing, which he almost did until the goddess made the cocks crow earlier than usual.The giant just went away and wept but the prince was more unforgiving and turned the princess into stone which today is known as the Slender Virgin [or Rara Jonggrang] of the Sewu Temple that could have been the 1,000th temple of the Pramaban temple complex.Pramaban is the biggest of its kind in Indonesia, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, built in the 9th century, totally abandoned by the 16th century, and rediscovered in the 18th century.

Today, the spires of Pramaban backdrop the story Rama and Sita as told and retold by the Ramayana Ballet in full colors...

...equaled only by the passionate narration of star gazers and campaigners worldwide, and the oriental flavors unleashed by what so far is my best full-noodle lunch in Yogya.

Monday, August 24, 2015

Yogyakarta was not easy.I've got to bring something there, which took almost two months to prepare, including trips to Davao and Guiuan and Bantayan, and a slew of email exchanges. That in itself deserved a P600 dinner at Victorino's and a trail ride on a typhoon-ed Friday.

A day before, I dropped by a gathering of once and current as they agreed on a 22nd meet-up instead of the 29th so I can come, went beyond my supposedly iron-clad rule of having only a couple of beers at most, and forgot that what I actually have in Panay is an old pair of Caterpillars with broken soles.

That's how I got to the Changi Airport, on old leather work shoes, where I cashed my complimentary $20 voucher for a box of tea and chocolate, and lunched on a chicken-and-mushroom bowl of noodles washed by a bottle of Tiger Beer despite my craving for roasted Chinese duck.

That's how I got to Yogyakarta, on old leather shoes and a stale beer breath, to meet seasoned international campaigners, and perhaps induct myself to becoming one of them.

I'm back in Indonesia after 12 years and that deserves a glass of San Miguel Beer in a Heineken mug after the bar run out of Bintang, and made Derk and Dini very happy.